


Picture Show

by Jaseish (curseofbunny)



Series: Take My Hand [8]
Category: LoliRock (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, I tried something new and i wuv it, Monster of the Week, There's no dialogue for most of this, it's formatted a bit like a legit episode is, silent film, witch doug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 09:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curseofbunny/pseuds/Jaseish
Summary: He almost looked normal.Devilishly handsome, of course, but otherwise normal.She remembered a day at the beach, his lips on hers.





	Picture Show

The sky above them is a lightshow, crystems- and crystal- and ateruina, casting an echoing symphony of spells in intricate blazing patterns.

All of this is thought as Iris’ vision refocuses, her back to the ground and her breath knocked out of her.

Her vision snaps to the figure leaning into view, obstructing the blue-gold duet.

Maroon hair. Popped collar. A perfect nose.

He turns his head and moves his mouth, but her ears don’t work enough for her to catch what comes out. She’s sure she’ll win anyways.

Iris grabs at her side and a crystal sword forms underneath her palms so she can lunge up, it coming in front of his neck. On the other side, her arms bracketing his shoulders and her breath on the shell of his ear, she holds the sword in place.

It catches on the knob on his throat. A single drop of blood slides down.

His gaze flicks to where her face is, and she isn’t sure- but is he looking at her mouth?

The battle ends in a flurry after that, teleportation and spells, fistbumping her team and trying to pretend like she hadn’t _felt_ the hitch of his breath as her chest pressed against his shoulderblades.

The scene shifts.

Mephisto slides his thumb over a length of emerald crystal, eyes on the crystal screen before him.

The girls. Princesses. He could still remember his own days in palaces, always reaching for his father’s hand and always hiding behind bigger, stronger members of the family. Of course, he’d always trailed behind. A coward.

Smart.

Studious.

But, when it came down to it, just as devious as his sister. From the moment Gramorr got them under his belt, from the moment the news of their father’s death hit, from the moment they watched their cousin die, he was right there with her.

He runs the tip of his tongue over his teeth.

The screen, seemingly knowing exactly where his thoughts are going, zooms in on the object of his… obsession was a bit strong word. Healthy fixation? Yes, that’d be perfect.

Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, off of her neck but still free. She didn’t seem like she wanted it restrained, unless the Princess of Calix that he felt he should recognize, unlike even his own sister when she was in disguises. But no, Iris would take her mountain of blonde and have it be collared, not caged.

He smirked to himself.

That thought made it sound like her hair was alive…

He used his thumb to start carving the emerald crystal into a more fitting shape. He had an idea for a monster.

Each tine comes naturally, and when it seemed structurally weak, he lifted his hand and whispered the appropriate spell to send a jut of crystal to let him make it just right. When it’s done, he waves a glamour over the whole thing, and then he’s holding a normal earth hairbrush.

He uses the usual spell to give it a consciousness and an attitude of subservience.

Now to plant it…

Where were the girls?

The lake. He nodded to himself and rolled his shoulders, a second glamour coating him like a second skin.

‘Like’. It was one.

Iris.

She presses a length of something melting and pink to her mouth, sucking at it.

If he weren’t on a mission, he’d have to jump in the lake to cool the blood burning his cheeks.

He takes a breath.

He walks the same path she does.

She’s not looking at him. She laughs at something that the Voltan said.

Her bag isn’t clipped correctly, he wastes no time in lining them up so that he knocks her down, the bag slipping down her arm and dumping its contents on the wooden dock.

He lets the ‘hairbrush’ fall into the radius.

She yelps and is going down too. In a flash, he’s stooping over her, one hand on her wrist and the other around her waist.

She hadn’t dropped the treat.

There’s a long pause.

He pulls her up slowly. Both their breath is shaking and uneven, and Talia berates him for not being more careful while Auriana shoves everything back into the purse.

He’s not even upset. It was a succeeded mission.

Iris glances at him before she walks away, pressing the treat into her mouth and sucking on it again.

Mephisto shivered.

The scene shifts.

Tines slide through silky hair, each strand slowly separating and flowing back into each other continuously.

Iris sighs. She lifts her eyes to the mirror.

They’d had a fun day at the lake, albeit not very busy. It was mostly lounging in the water and sitting on the docks, and other than her bump with some cute boy, it was uneventful.

Any day the twins didn’t intercept was a mixed bag.

She breathes out. She pulls the brush through her hair again, and again, and again, and again.

Silky, silky, silky smooth.

She’d once heard that brushing your hair for 1000 strokes before bed, or maybe 100, was enough to keep it perfectly maintained.

She’s mesmerized by herself in the mirror.

She’s been moving her hands for a while, so she’s probably at thirty, thirty-five strokes.

Thirty-six.

Thirty-seven.

Thirty-eight.

Her hand pauses.

The brush almost seems to move on its own.

She closes her eyes and folds her hands in her lap.

Thirty-nine.

Forty.

The camera shudders.

Iris wakes up on the battlefield.

Her lips move slowly, and all she can see is Mephisto above her.

He slowly looks down at her.

His mouth forms words that she can’t catch.

There’s a flash of chilling bright light, blue-white that fades and eases into shock and blackness.

She sits up straight in her bed.

Iris clutches at her heart.

Her fingers comb through her hair and get it out of her face as she heads for the bathroom. She’s too drowsy to pay attention wholly, heart still pounding too much to catch her breath.

A clock reads 3:45 am.

She gets into the bathroom and stretches, then lifts her eyes up to her reflection.

She pauses.

She turns.

She screams.

The girls practically skid their way into the room, and none of them can understand what they’re seeing.

Her hair starts on her head and down her body, but where it usually tapers off, it now continues. And continues. And continues.

On the floor, around the corner and down the hall. The strands are too strong to cut with scissors and too long to leave down, but heavy and long enough that they don’t want to cooperate with the attempts at tying them up.

Iris, teary, asks if it’s some other alien puberty thing while Auriana digs her hands straight into the gold.

Auriana doesn’t respond.

They get Iris downstairs with minimal damage, and she’s condemned to lounging on the couch with all her hair piled on the coffee table.

Unfortunately, she’s not good at following orders.

She grows bored by the time it’s 11 am. At first she’d dozed, but the hair was longer than she was used to, and she was scared she’d choke. Then she’d messed around on her phone, but nothing else was really “allowed” and she, as earth teens were wont to do, got fed up with the inaction.

And she gathered the mile of hair in her arms. She stepped out onto the porch, taking in deep breaths of air.

Auriana had gone on a smoothie run, and Talia was at the library down the street, crosschecking earth witchcraft books with her own knowledge to see where they were similar and where they diverged.

And Iris, unfortunately, was bored.

With each step she took, more and more gold slipped from her grasp, until there was a trail of it leading to the edge of the dock.

She dropped down and let her bare feet dangle over the edge.

The camera shifts.

Auriana hadn’t gone to the smoothie bar.

Who could blame her?

She was at another earth establishment, a coffee shop.

Who could blame her?

There was a cute earth girl, smiling at her as she passed the other girl a latte. And Auriana was just a little bit in love.

The camera shifts.

Talia made eye contact with Doug over the witchcraft section.

He grinned and slowly showed her his book choice. She slowly showed her own.

Even slower, they sit down besides each other to talk about the fine arts. To compare notes.

Mephisto thinks that now would be the perfect timing.

He teleports in front of Iris, Praxina and Lev heading to the second location.

The blonde jumps to her feet, face becoming serious immediately as she shouts her name and title.

Lightning crackles.

For a moment she’s grounded in her battle-ready stance. And then lightning starts to crackle through her hair, and it takes shape of its own.

Her eyes go wide.

He’d apologize if it weren’t for the moment.

The hair takes over.

Talia and Auriana had headed home of their own pace and accord.

Then they get to the house, notice the rainclouds gathering, notice the villainess perched in front of their house.

They bolt to the house and her cackles follow them.

Uh-oh.

The camera spans a mountain of crackling pink, the villain grinning besides it, the thief crouching on the ground.

A bundled-up unconscious princess in the center of her own hair, shaped into something towering and hungry.

Auriana groans. Talia elbows her. She doesn’t look at the thief.

The fight isn’t pretty. How does one fight their friend when their friend is semi-possessed and at the heart of a monster? Auriana gets choked, Lev gets a black eye, and Talia gets flung into the atrium, cracking the glass. Even Praxina isn’t safe from getting smacked in the face by tendrils of pink.

They only finally figure out what to do when Talia spots a hairbrush caught in Iris’ hand. She creates a distraction as Auriana uses her whip to steal it, and for a moment the beastly shape stills, twitching.

And then it falls.

Mephisto catches Iris as all of her hair falls into silky sheets, and then continues holding her as it returns to its original mass.

Talia glares at him. Auriana breaks the hairbrush.

He slowly descends, setting the crown princess on the ground.

All parties stare each other down as he tucks a strand of hair behind Iris’ ear and then, together, the villains teleport away.

The scene shifts.

Iris probably should have been spooked by the dock by now.

Instead, here she is, laying back and looking up at the stars.

The week had been so strange… Fighting the twins, going to the lake and meeting that cute boy, then getting possessed- or atleast part of her- by a monster. It was too much. She blew out a long breath.

She should probably go get back in bed. She just couldn’t sleep, and after the haze she’d been in since she hit her head in that battle, who could blame her?

Talia and Auriana were probably fine. They usually were. Even after everything on Ephedia and all the fights with the twins, they could handle themselves.

The waves are lapping at the dock. It was high tide, and if she lowered her feet even a few more inches, they’d get soaked. The night was noisy but calm. Crickets, a car purring on the road past the house, some party down the river.

A soft pop behind her.

Iris sat up.

“Mind if I sit down?”

She turned.

Mephisto.

“Why should I let you?”

“Because,” He sat down anyways, taking her answer as permission. She didn’t mind it. “I wanted to check on you.”

“Check on me.” Her eyebrows rise. “What?”

“It was an intense monster! I don’t know, it’d be no fun to fight you if you were traumatized by hairbrushes.” He shrugs, but it’s obvious that it’s not the only thing on his mind.

Iris rolls her eyes. “I’m fine. So how did you get here?”

“The dock isn’t covered by the barrier.”

She hums. She doesn’t think she’ll mention that to Talia.

“So what now?”

“Well…” Mephisto shifts to pull his boots off and set them to the side, letting his feet rest in the water. Sitting there had put both their toes in the murky depths. “I didn’t think this far.”

Iris looks over his profile. The handsome curve of his nose and his cheekbones, the way his lips quirked up mischievously, even the fact that his eyebrows looked less menacing when he was comfortable.

He almost looked normal.

Devilishly handsome, of course, but otherwise normal.

She remembered a day at the beach, his lips on hers.

He set his hand to the side, and their fingers brush.

She goes red and refocuses on the sky.

Neither of them move their hands.

It’s nice.

Quiet.

Her heart aches, and she makes sure to shove that down and just enjoy the momentary truce.


End file.
